


black coffee mornings

by independentalto



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:06:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25975657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/independentalto/pseuds/independentalto
Summary: The tip jar at the Zephyr is made for challenges, whether they're drinking espresso monstrosities or determining who has to buy the shop pizza for dinner.They're also used to speed along their friends' relationship -- or so Daniel and Daisy think.
Relationships: Skye | Daisy Johnson/Daniel Sousa
Comments: 40
Kudos: 118





	black coffee mornings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maxiefae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxiefae/gifts).



> written for @faenavi on tumblr, who requested jemma + daisy + sousa & "he started it!"/"well, I'm finishing it" :) thanks for prompting!

_Clink._ “Hey, thanks, Mack,” Daniel called, shooting the frequent coffee-drinker a thumbs-up as he exited the Zephyr with a light tinkle. Grinning, he leaned the check the status of the two jars they’d placed by the cash register: the one on the left was filled with a significantly higher amount of change. “Looks like you’re the crowd favorite, Johnson” was smirked to the barista next to him. “Hope you’re ready to try Fitz’s espresso monstrosity.” 

Daisy just rolled her eyes, scooping up a stray strand of dark brown hair to add to her ponytail. “That’s ‘cause Deke was just here, and he just wants to see me suffer,” she scoffed. “And don’t let Fitz hear you say his test recipes are monstrosities, otherwise _you’ll_ be the one drinking it, tip jar or not.” Another customer stepped up to the register just then, and she simply shot him a smirk before turning a full-wattage smile towards them. “Hi! What can I get you today…” 

The tip jar was always a point of contention between the two of them, often filled with dumb challenges and bets that made them endearing figures to their regulars. Three times a week (no more, no less), Daisy and Daniel would be on shift together – and it would be then that the tipping challenge would begin. 

Since they’d established the Zephyr’s tip jar wars, both Daisy and Daniel had been involved in some...interesting shenanigans. Daisy had once consumed a burrito the size of her head in one sitting; Daniel had nearly risked his job by prank calling corporate one night halfway through a mixture of vodka and Red Bull. One could always tell when Daniel and Daisy were on shift together because the line for the Zephyr tended to go out the door, its die-hard customers antsy for a chance to find out what antics the two of them would get up to next. 

“Large iced, twelve pumps of mocha and a chocolate bagel,” their third barista, Jemma, called out at the end of the line with a wrinkled nose. “Gross, Lance,” she informed the man who picked up the bag with a cheerful wave. “Can’t you just pick another bagel? I swear you’re the only reason we keep those things in stock.” 

“Nope,” Lance grinned, shooting her a salute while he took a long pull of his coffee. “Anyways, love, what’s the inside info on today’s comp? Should we be puttin’ Daisy or Danny boy through it?” 

“You didn’t hear it from me, but Fitz is experimenting with espresso again,” she hummed, hands flying to automatically process the coffees as she spoke. “He told me last night he wanted to put Red Bull in it. _Red Bull,_ Lance.” They shared a shudder. “And considering that Daisy’s an absolute monster when it comes to anything but tea, so it’d probably be better to put Daniel on it.” She wiped her hands on her apron briefly before reaching into her pocket and handing Lance a few coins. “Can you take these and put them on Daniel’s side for me? Thanks.” 

Daisy’s earlier prediction had been correct: by the end of their shifts, most of their regulars had pulled through, coin after coin clinking into Daniel’s tip jar to the point where their last one, a tall hulking director by the name of Mack (what he was director of, he wouldn’t say) had to bend down and balance the last of his coins so as to not overflow the jar. “Cheer up,” she joked to Daniel, patting him on the back. “At least it’s better than the time you had to mix a White Claw and a Natty Light.” 

Daniel shot her a glare for it, picking up the mixture their manager Fitz had so excitedly prepared five minutes ago, espresso still steaming in the tiny paper cup. The air was still, not a single customer who’d turned up to watch daring to breathe as he upended the cup into his mouth. His reaction was immediate – with acrid bitterness seeming to invade every corner of his mouth, he was soon coughing as the patrons cheered, Daisy handing him a smoothie with a soft smile on her face. “Yeah, so, not good, Fitz,” he managed to choke out, the cheers turning into laughter. “I’d keep working on this one.” 

It wasn’t until the dining room was empty and the two of them were left wiping down tables that Daisy spoke again. “That espresso shot took balls today,” she told him, voice quiet over the golden beams of the exterior lighting and the upended legs of their chairs. “I don’t think I could’ve done it, honestly.”

“Yeah, well,” Daniel looked up from where he was balancing the cash register. “You take one too many drinks in college and you end up being able to drink anything people put in front of you. Even if it is your manager’s Frankenstein creation.” The drawer was shut with a _beep_ , and he looked up at her with an expectant look on her face. “Ready to go, Johnson?” 

“After you, Sousa.” Together, the two of them set the alarm and made their way out the back door, occasionally knocking into each others’ arms in a comfortable silence. The night air was bracing as they stepped into the city street, and Daisy took a deep breath, relishing being able to breathe in anything but the smell of coffee for the first time in six hours. “We still on for that rail exploring thing tomorrow?” 

“8:45AM, bright and early.” His grin held a treasure’s trove of promise as he waved, stepping away and leaving her to stand in the city lights alone. “See you, Daisy.” 

* * *

Sometimes, Daisy wondered if having crushes on her friends was the only constant thing that was in her life. 

So many things had come and go – the foster homes, the orphanage wards, the bouts of misfortune and rock bottoms – but truly, the only factor that’d been stable throughout her tumultuous life was that wherever she went, she tended to develop a crush on at least one of her friends.

Miles had been first, her first friend at her third elementary school in five months, the only one who’d asked if she wanted to play soccer instead of asking her why her previous families didn’t want her. Then’d come Adrianne, her all-too-brief partner in seventh grade science she got to know for the length of a single project before she was gone again; Ian, the only one of her high school friends she still kept in contact with, even Liz, the neighbor who’d lived across the hall from her freshman year of college but had subsequently become one of her best friends. 

None of them even had anything in common, honestly. It just seemed that Daisy had the habit of developing feelings for anyone that got even _remotely_ close to her. And now, whether she liked it or not, there was a new variable in play: Daniel Sousa. 

She didn’t even know how she’d developed feelings for him in the first place. One day, they’d been sniping good-naturedly back and forth about whether pineapple belonged on pizza or not (he’d eaten a large Hawaiian pizza in front of her during a break once out of spite), and the next, she was captivated by the way he talked animatedly while the grease from their burgers dripped onto their napkins. 

And it was no secret Daniel Sousa could break hearts – Daisy wasn’t a fool, she knew half of the line that came in when they were on shift was for him – but what _did_ puzzle her was that he’d never acted on any of the multiple invitations left in the form of phone numbers on receipts. At least, not to her knowledge. And they spent a _lot_ of time together. 

Which was the second thing that didn’t make sense to her: out of all the people in their world, all 7.2 billion of them, Daniel Sousa chose to spend most of his time with _her_ . She knew that he hadn’t had a lot of friends when he’d first moved to Providence, grad school being the biggest thing on his mind and eking out a living, but after three years, he had to have at least made one, right? And yet, even on their off days, he was by her side. They were literally two steps away from becoming roommates, save for the fact that Daisy had already _had_ roommates by the time she’d met him.

It just didn’t make _sense._ But as long as she got to keep Daniel’s eyes in her life, nothing had to make too much sense. If she didn’t think about it too hard, maybe she’d get to keep going on with whatever was going on between the two of them, and it wouldn’t sour like everything else she’d touched. 

(God, she hoped this didn’t go sideways. She needed this job, first of all, and secondly, Daisy wasn’t sure what she’d do if she didn’t have Daniel in her life. It was like not having a best friend – and while neither of them had said it, it was probably what they were.) 

Daisy’s phone blipped, her screen lighting up with a text from Daniel, and sighing, she grabbed her bag to head out the door. At least with him, she didn’t have to keep a tight lid on their feelings – even if she didn’t have them, her exuberance and proneness to physical touch practically put up the facade that she did. 

“Peachy morning for a rail ride,” he joked when she slid into his front seat, handing her a cup of coffee. Hazelnut mocha. Her favorite. Seriously, how had nobody taken him? “You ready to see some sights today, Johnson?” 

Right. That was why. “Nobody says ‘peachy’ anymore, you weirdo,” she chuckled as he pulled into traffic. “I swear you belonged in the fifties; should I get you a typewriter for Christmas or something?” 

“You joke, but I’ve been saving up for a typewriter,” he said, and just like that, the ride down to the attraction venue was filled with explanations on typewriters and debates about his actual place in society’s linear timeline. 

Maybe their lives wouldn’t always be like this, but for now, with the windows down and a cup of fresh coffee in her hand, Daisy didn’t mind the way they were. 

* * *

“He’s cute.” 

Daisy’s head turned so quickly she swore there was a case of whiplash in there somewhere. “What?” she asked, even though she was fairly sure the answer lay in the customer (admittedly attractive, she’d say) that’d just walked out the door. “I wasn’t – he’s not –” What had she wanted to say? That she wasn’t ogling? That he wasn’t her type? Because while both were false, it didn’t mean she wanted to admit it. 

“His name is Trip, by the way,” Jemma offered from the end of the bar. Daisy shot her a wounded look. “What? You had to ask his name anyways, I just remembered it for you.” 

“Cool. So we’ve established that _yes,_ Trip is cute,” Daniel amended, and Daisy’s cheeks flared red. “And he was definitely trying to gauge your interest level.” A rush of customers interrupted the short conversation, and by the time it dwindled down, she’d accumulated several well-rehearsed arguments in her head. _Yeah, he was cute, doesn’t mean I’m going to ask him out. He could have a girlfriend. He could be married._

 _I don’t have eyes for him because I’m really focused on not trying to fall in love with you._ Yeah, maybe she wouldn’t list that one out loud. “Since when have you paid attention to the guys interested in me anyways, Sousa?” she joked, taking a finished coffee and sliding it to Jemma. “I gotta admit, this is new.” 

“Since you turned up drunk and crying at my apartment sobbing about how nobody likes you,” he countered, and Daisy groaned. Lance, who’d been at the front of the line with his girlfriend Bobbi at the time of the remarks, looked on with interest. “7.2 billion people in the world, Johnson. Odds are that at least one of them likes you. Thought I’d help speed up the search a little bit.” 

“Well, even if he _was_ single, there’s no way I’d ask,” Daisy said quickly, handing Lance and Bobbi their coffees over the counter. “And I’d highly doubt that _he’d_ ask, I’m just the barista at the uber-futuristic coffee shop.” 

“Speaking of uber-futuristic, is there any way you birds can let Fitz know that he’s got to stop playing the Man U matches in the afternoon?” Lance asked, and the five of them could practically hear Fitz begin to froth at the mouth in the back room. “It’s just that we’re in the future, yeah, and I don’t think TVs in the future should be showing matches of a team that’s destined to lose for eter…”

_“THAT’S IT!”_

“You guys think I’ll have time to have a pastry while this is going on this time around?” Bobbi asked casually, and both Jemma and Daisy nodded. Behind them, Fitz stomped out of the back room and around the counter, the sounds of an old, familiar argument beginning to rise. “Cool. You guys got any bear claws left?” Silently, Daniel slid her one while Bobbi slid him the money in return. “Anyways, why don’t you just ask the customers?” she asked, mouth full of almond paste. “Make it a tip jar challenge.” 

The words hung in the air, occasionally sliced through by Lance and Fitz’s argument but still out and present nonetheless. “Y’know, I don’t think it’s a bad idea,” Daniel said finally, and Daisy doled out her third affronted look of the day. She thought these people were supposed to be her _friends –_ Daniel especially. What a betrayal. “This way, none of us have to make the decision, the customers do, and you don’t resent us for it.” 

There was no way out of this, was there? Not without exposing her secret to the world. “I’ll do it,” she said finally, and Daniel and Jemma reached to high-five. “But if this goes badly, I’m going to murder you both. Then I’m going to murder you, Morse, and make sure Fitz plays Man U matches for the rest of eternity.”

“It’s going to be _fine_ ,” Jemma chirped. “Besides, worst he can do is say no, right?”

“I mean, the worst that can happen is that he turns out to be a serial killer that happens to like killing brunettes that work at coffee shops, but yeah, we can go with that,” Daisy countered, and Daniel rolled his eyes before patting her back not unlike the manner in which she had a few days ago during the espresso event. 

“Ye of little faith,” he told her. “You really think we’d find a serial killer boyfriend for you?” 

* * *

Jemma wasn’t on shift with them for the next week or so, which gave both Daniel and Daisy time to gather intel; Trip was _very_ single, much to Daniel’s delight and Daisy’s dismay, but the conversations he had with the latter left her with pink cheeks and his jovial laugh following him out the door every time.

_“Expressions don’t lie, Johnson,” he’d told her sagely one night over beers and bagels, scrabbling the corner of his bagel for the last bit of cream cheese in the container. “I haven’t seen anyone look so giddy to see a man since Jemma first started dating Fitz.”_

_“Ugh, emotions, gross.” She threw a glob of cream cheese at him. “I did_ not _look like that.”_

By the time all three of them were together one more, Bobbi’d prepared a little sign for the tip jar that says ‘Should Daisy ask out a customer?’. Daisy slapped it onto their question board, scribbled ‘yes’ and ‘no’ across the tip jars and opened up the drawer. It was now or never. 

Their regulars came and went, the jars filling up as the day progressed. Bobbi and Lance made sure to leave copious amounts of change in the ‘yes’ jar, Daisy shooting them an exasperated glare. “Look, you’re making back part of the money at the end of the day,” Lance pointed out. “Think of it as us funding your first date budget.” Apparently, the prospect of Daisy jump-starting her love life was an appealing prospect to bet on – so much that they ran out of pastries halfway through the morning rather than through the day, prompting Fitz to begin panic baking in the kitchen amidst a cloud of curses. 

By the time Daniel and Daisy had both clocked out, Jemma’d emptied the coins jar twice and was utilizing the entirety of the back counter to count the coins. “Looks like the customers have spoken, Daisy,” she told her friend, raising an eyebrow at the pile. “I do believe you’ve got to ask out Trip the next time he comes in.” 

Outwardly, Daisy sighed, but on the inside, her stomach was zipping. It’d been so long since she’d been on a date – what with all of her free time being spent with Daniel and her neverending shifts at the Zephyr – what if she was no good at dating anymore? But there was no time to dwell on that. She had things to do and dates to ask about. 

The next day, though he’d previously been enthusiastic about the prospect, the ghost of Daniel’s gaze seemed to be trained on her back; whether she was cursing herself over hot coffee or spilling ice on the floor, it was if he was watching her every move. Watching every time she looked at the door, waiting for...what, exactly? For Trip to show up? For her birth parents to suddenly appear and beg for forgiveness? For her to come to the sudden realization that she was madly in love with him and confess it in a coffee shop full of patrons? _Yeah, right._ The last one was a long stretch, even by her standards.

Such was the anticipation that when Trip finally _did_ show up, it was practically a goddamned miracle none of them ended up throwing a container of creamer clear across the room. “Hey, girl,” Trip greeted easily, and the motion of it was so simple, so _familiar,_ that Daisy didn’t even have to think twice about what she was doing. 

“Hey yourself,” she grinned, ignoring the fact that Daniel had hawk eyes trained on the exchange. “What’s on the docket of curations today?”

“Couple of pottery pieces, think we’ll get to restore the Mona Lisa after lunch,” Trip hummed as Daisy handed him his coffee, letting out a hearty laugh when what he’d said finally sank into her brain and hinged her jaw open. “I’m kidding. But word on the street is there’s an early preview of the new collection we’re borrowing from the Uffizi in Florence, and each of us curators get a plus one.” Jemma, Daisy and Daniel all watched in mild surprise as he shot her a wink. “Sound like something you’d be down to see? Friday night, maybe?” 

“Wow,” Lance muttered to Bobbi from the back of the line. “She didn’t even have to say a word.” Bobbi just smacked him in the shoulder. 

Grin wide as the Grand Canyon, Daisy grabbed an empty coffee sleeve and scribbled her number on it. “Just in case,” she said, handing it over with the receipt to his coffee. “I’d say see you Friday, but something tells me I’ll be seeing you before then.” 

“Gotta come back for the coffee and the company,” Trip chuckled, and she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. “See you tomorrow, Daisy.” Bobbi barely managed to save Hunter from erupting into a round of applause as Trip exited, simply settling for rolling her eyes when Hunter shot Daisy an enthusiastic double thumbs-up. 

She hadn’t even had to do any of the work – it made her feel like she’d cheated her way out of the challenge somehow, but a date was a date. And now she had one with one of the most charming patrons the Zephyr had ever seen. Normally, this would be the point where Daisy would turn to Daniel, elated and ready to chatter nonstop until the day actually came.

But every time she turned around to even meet his eyes, his would look away, focused intently on something different every time. The worst of it all was that she didn’t even get to ask him about it – and when their shift was over, he was counting coins and trading jokes with Jemma as if the frostiness of the last six hours had never happened. 

He didn’t even bother to stick around once they were done closing up, wishing her only a quick goodbye before hustling off to who knew where he’d parked his car. It definitely left Daisy standing only _more_ confused than she’d been before alone in the city lights, cars whizzing on the street and people hurrying past her to get to their destinations. 

There was only one reason Daniel Sousa would give her such a cold shoulder on the day she’d secured a date with Trip, but it was a meager bug of a reason Daisy refused to acknowledge, because doing so would lead to a whole host of other problems. And she didn’t need any more problems than she could handle at the moment. 

* * *

“You know at this point, I’m just going to end up with a new gaggle of best friends rather than a boyfriend.” 

It was the rare occasion Daisy and Daniel had been shifted to open together, and while the latter was doing his best to put the cafe together in some sort of recognizable fashion, the former had simply staggered in, plonked down next to the espresso machine and jabbed at it until it dispensed her espresso lifeline. “I mean it,” she said as Daniel lifted yet another set of chairs. “Robbie and I are going axe throwing next week, I’m third wheeling Lincoln and his girlfriend to go see the new human bodies exhibition this weekend, and apparently Trip and I looked so good together at the preview I got invited to all future ones as his fake girlfriend.” 

“Sounds nice,” he echoed curtly, but the scuffle of metal against tile suggested that it was anything but. He should’ve been expecting this day to come, honestly – there was no way someone as charismatic and charming as _Daisy Johnson_ would be so friendless, it was a miracle he’d lasted this long as her only friend – but the fact that it was still here didn’t hurt any less. 

If he’d made his move before he’d gone and opened his mouth about the goddamn damn jar, or if he’d rigged the _no_ jar a little more, even gotten up the balls to _tell_ her...there was no way to know. And now Daisy had not one, not two, but _three_ new guy friends, all with countless other friends to introduce her to. His chances were pretty much shot. 

He hadn’t expected much out of his job at the Zephyr when he’d first applied; when he’d met Jemma and Fitz, they’d seemed like perfectly affable people to get along with, if not a touch passionate about football. Clock in, make the dough and go. It wasn’t much of a life, he knew, but once he was done grinding his nose to the stone, he could afford to enjoy life all he wanted. 

But once the regulars had started getting attached to him, he’d begun to do the same, serving up coffees with a little more than regulated gusto and conversing with them whenever he could. It’d been how he’d learned that Lance and Bobbi had already been married twice, Mack (despite his intimidating stature) was father to a four-year-old named Hope, Deke was a mechanic with a weird penchant for futuristic tech and Phil and Melinda, who came in every day at ten on the dot, were so in sync they could tell what the other was thinking without a word. (It scared Daniel a little sometimes, but mostly made him hope that he would be able to find that in a relationship someday.) 

Then had come Daisy Johnson. 

She’d been on vacation the first week he’d been hired, breezing back behind the counter with a ‘hey, Jem!’ and a ‘Yo, Fitz, remind me to give you the thing I got for you in Seattle – and _no,_ it’s not a monkey’, halfway to doing up her apron straps before she’d noticed him making coffee in the corner, stunned stiff. 

_“You’re new,” she decided, looking Daniel up and down before sticking out a hand for him to shake. “Hey, I’m Johnson. Daisy Johnson.” Their hands slapped together slightly from the force of the shake, and it didn’t escape him that hers was so firm. “Daniel Sousa, right? Jemma told me about you,” she explained when his mouth fell open. “Anyways, welcome to the Zephyr! I’m assuming you’re all caught up so I don’t have to train you, but what_ ever _you do, don’t touch Fitz’s model plane collection in the corner. You can look at it, god forbid you ask him about it, but you_ don’t _touch it.” She shuddered. “Not unless you want your ass to be sailing into the next century.”_

And as luck had had it, the spot for Daisy’s barista partner had been recently vacated (“We don’t talk about it, to be delicate,” Jemma had told him, “Fucking Grant Ward” was all Fitz uttered), so as soon as he’d been caught up to policy, he was destined to be beside Daisy Johnson on the counter at all times. Their rhythm had been clumsy at first, Daisy unused to working beside a partner that wasn’t her former one and Daniel unused to working with a partner, period, but at one point, they’d seamlessly swapped spots making a cup of coffee and a sandwich to deliver both items at the same time; after that, nothing had been the same. 

Daisy was more than just a friend from work – friends from work were Jemma, or Fitz, even Piper when he had the opportunity to be scheduled with her every once in a blue moon. Daisy was...Daisy was somewhere between a friend from work and someone hovering within the gray area of platonic and romantic relationship. She was the one that’d practically broken down his door when he’d come down with the flu, the one that occupied the passenger seat every time they went on one of their little adventures, his partner in crime in opening, closing and the one time the two of them had entered a DDR contest. (She’d won for the both of them.) 

Some things went beyond being a work friend; hell, some things went beyond even being a friend. Daisy Johnson was a tenuous presence in his life he wasn’t sure he could stand to lose, the unexpected ray of sunshine he wanted to be able to bask in for the rest of his life. She was fire and passion and adventure and spontaneity and everything he’d dreamed of being as a kid. She was a flame to the world, her compassion catching and her loyalty boundless. 

(Not to mention she had the ability to make awful customers quake in their boots. He did love to see that.) 

He couldn’t imagine the two of them ever parting ways, but apparently, since the illusion of time was a trout in the milk, Daisy’s single status had vanished a lot sooner than he’d thought. If he didn’t hurry, it would likely vanish forever. 

“—which is why I think you should let _me_ pick someone.” 

“Huh?” Daniel paused in the middle of stacking pastries, turning to Daisy, who’d finally sipped at her espresso shot and was filling the first batch of coffee pots. “Sorry, did you say something?” She looked especially striking today, he mused, sharp cheekbones and tiny dimples that stood out whenever she smiled. 

“I _said,_ I think you should let me pick someone for you to go on a date with,” Daisy said, reaching to tap Daniel’s head before scooting to the back for more syrup pumps. “It’s the least I can do for you after you basically gave me a brand-new friend group.” 

Dating? Pick someone else? The idea was laughable at best, honestly. That he would ever be able to even _try_ to put his mind onto someone else? He’d like to see it, of course, because it meant he’d find a way to get over Daisy, but he just didn’t think it was possible. “I’d like to see you try.” If she could find someone, she’d be doing both of them a favor. 

“Alrighty then, Danny boy,” Daisy grinned, laughing when she got the groan she’d expected from Daniel. “Look, that’s not my fault, you were the one who told Lance you used to sing in your middle school choir and that was one of the songs. I thought you would’ve learned by now not to tell Lance _anything_.” 

“That is _the_ first and last time I tell Lance anything.” 

“So you’re gonna let me do it, right? You’re gonna let me pick you a date.” He looked up from snapping open the locks to where Daisy was setting up a vat of iced coffee. “Come on, Daniel. Please?” 

He sighed. “ _One_ ,” he said, but before he could go any further, her ‘yes!’ was already reverberating around the dining room. “ _One_ , and I get the final say on whether she’s the option we take to the customers.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Already, she was bouncing on the balls of her feet, anxious to see their morning rush. “It’s gonna be great, trust me. You’re gonna _love_ her.” 

It was possible – but it would take a lot to top the dazzling profile that was his favorite coworker and best friend. 

* * *

At the end of the day, the option turned out to be Peggy Carter – one of Jemma’s longtime college friends and, as it so happened to be, a recent move into the area. “Daniel’s a _great_ tour guide,” Daisy promised as she and Peggy waited for a cup of Earl Grey to steep. “I’m not even trying to talk him up,” she said, internally frowning when she realized her adulation wasn’t forced. “He hasn’t been here long, maybe like, three years? He knows what it’s like to be the new kid.” 

_“And_ he’s quite the history man,” Jemma added, exchanging a nod with Daisy. “I suppose he’d love to hear about the work you’re doing about global societies in World War II,” 

“You’re doing work about World War II?” It was like someone had instilled a keyword into him or something, because as soon as Jemma’d said _World War II,_ Daniel looked ready to knock Daisy off of her perch at the tea-steeping station. Daisy stifled a smile, leaving the two of them to converse while she took care of the other customers. Another challenge where neither of them had actually had to fulfill its terms – she figured that made them even, at the very least. 

But even as she watched Peggy and Daniel converse animatedly, the former even throwing her head back to laugh at a joke he’d just made (it had to be one of his awful dad joke puns, Daisy mused, there was no way Daniel’d told her one of his undergrad stories – those were _hers_ ), a pang of abandonment made itself present in her chest. Was this how Daniel had felt when she’d first initially connected with Trip? With Lincoln, or Robbie? Hell, even when they’d first met Lance and Deke? 

“Say what you want about Danny boy, but he sure knows how to move fast,” Speaking of Lance… “What’s wrong, love?” he asked Daisy, he and Bobbi peering past the counter to where Peggy and Daniel were conversing. “You’re looking like your dog got run over by a new driver.” 

“That…” Bobbi pursed her lips dryly. “That might be the worst thing you’ve ever said. But it’s not inaccurate,” she added when Daisy didn’t answer. “I thought you _wanted_ to find Daniel someone.” 

“I did.” And she had, and she was happy that he seemed to be getting on well with Peggy. So why did she still feel like curdled milk? “Peggy sounds great for him. I couldn’t ask for anything more, you know?” 

“Except the look on your face is telling me that you’re asking for everything more.” When Daisy flinched, Bobbi just raised an eyebrow, fingers tapping against the ceramic of her refillable coffee cup. “Cross-examining is my daily job, Dais,” she reminded the barista. “Look, if you wanted him, why put him through all of this in the first place?” 

“Because I’m pretty sure we’re just friends,” Daisy murmured, glancing furtively at the couple to make sure Bobbi’s question hadn’t been heard. “You know Daniel. He’s a grad student with a shit ton of prospective careers in front of him. And I’m just...I’m just me.” 

Both Bobbi and Lance stared at Daisy as if she’d grown a second head. “ _Just_ you?” he echoed, tone mirroring the one on his face. “You hearing this, love?” 

“Yeah,” Bobbi said, nose wrinkling. “I think Daisy just said she wasn’t _worth_ much?” 

“Yeah, so that needs to change. Oi, Fitz!” Lance called, and Fitz stuck his head out with his trademark questioning blank expression. “We’re taking Johnson for ten minutes, yeah?” 

Fitz sighed and emerged in Daisy’s place, tying an apron around his waist. “Go,” he said, and Daisy would’ve laughed at the exasperated expression on his face had it not been related to her. “ _Go_ ,” he said again, not unkindly. “Figure if Bobbi ‘n Lance have something worth pulling you out of a shift for, it’s gotta be something important. But do try to be back in ten minutes.” He leaned in close. “And if you can get away with calling Lance a wanker for me, I’ll let you off an hour early with pay.” 

Daisy rolled her eyes. She would never get over the insults that were the insults between Fitz and Hunter. Sighing, she shook out her ponytail with a last look at Peggy and Daniel – yup, neither of them had noticed she’d stepped off of the counter, not that she’d expected them to – and joined Bobbi and Lance where they’d sat down at the table. “Before we start, I want an hour’s pay, so Lance, you’re a wanker,” she said, Fitz’s loud cackle filling the shop when Lance’s face contorted in offense. “Now that that’s out of the way, what is so important that you two pulled me off of shift?” 

Bobbi chuckled. “Why do you think the Zephyr has so many regulars, Dais?” 

Daisy’s brow furrowed. “...because we have bomb-ass drinks and even better pastries? Our décor is pretty lit, and we’re one of the only coffeeshops in the Providence FiDi that doesn’t serve brown water? And because we’re quite literally in the middle of the path between Providence Station and literally every big office building in the city?” 

“I mean, yeah,” Bobbi said, head cocking as she considered Daisy’s arguments. “But that’s not the point I’m getting at. The Zephyr has so many regulars because of the staff in it, Dais. And I’m not talking about Jemma or Fitz. We all know the only one Fitz regularly interacts with is Lance, and that’s when they’re not at each other’s throats about soc – _football,_ ” she said, expertly dodging Lance’s prod to her arm. “And it’s not Daniel, either. He’s a good guy, but he’s a bit reserved for a prime barista.” 

Daisy scoffed. It wasn’t – it couldn’t be – there was no way. “Come on, Bobbi, you’re not saying the _sole_ reason people come to the Zephyr is _me_.” There was just no way it could be possible. The idea that people lined up in droves just to be served by an orphaned comp-sci major? It was ridiculous, more so than any of the stories she’d heard about Bobbi’s clients, and she knew it. “You know me. There’s no way.” 

“Look, love, the first day I came here, I met Fitz,” Lance cut in. “The second day I came in, I met you. Take a guess as to which one of you led me to keep coming here. And for me to start bringing in my lovely girlfriend,” he said, giving Bobbi a peck on the cheek. “Go on.” 

“Yeah, but just because _you_ had a disagreement with Fitz your first time here doesn’t mean _everyone_ ’s here for me,” Daisy pointed out, and the look Bobbi and Lance shared radiated exasperation. “Daniel’s a crowd favorite, and Jemma’s perfectly charming, too.” _I would know._ “It’s not just me, you guys. It’s really not.” 

“Alright, you asked for it.” Bobbi stood, clapping her hands together in a loud wave of sound that instantly quieted the cafe. Even Daniel and Peggy’s conversation had fallen silent, all eyes turned towards Bobbi, Lance and a rapidly-reddening Daisy. (She was _so_ giving Bobbi decaf espresso from now on.) “Quick question and a show of hands, please.” Even outside of court, Bobbi was all business, crisp tone and steely features. “How many of y’all are here because of Daisy? Like, regulars. How many of you make it a point to come _because_ Daisy’s good to you and your coffee?” 

Almost every hand in the establishment went up. 

“And there you have your evidence, Dais. Thanks everybody, go on with your days.” It was like someone had pressed a play button, and when Bobbi waved a hand, the chatter resumed as if nothing had happened. “Don’t say you’re _just you,_ Dais,” she said, sitting back beside Hunter. “You’re a source of light to all these people because of the joy you bring them every morning. I know you’re balancing this gig as a full time job while you’re in school. And I know what it took for you to get here,” Her voice softened. “You told me what happened, remember that. That’s not shit that any normal person makes it through. All that drama, you’re practically a superhero, Johnson,” she told Daisy, giving her a slight nudge. “Nothing to look down on, yeah?” 

Lance’s eyes were warm. “We’ve been coming here for two and a half years, Daisy,” he told her, eyes oddly comforting despite the fact that hers were tearing up a little. “We remember what you were like when you first started, and believe me, there’s no better privilege I’ve gotten than to go from someone who exchanged two sentences with you every morning to someone who got invited to football watch parties.” 

“Which brings me back to the point,” Bobbi said, and surreptitiously, Daisy wiped at her eyes. “If there is something you want – if there is _anything_ you want – _never_ believe you’re not good enough to attain it, because you are. You want that scholarship? Apply for it. You want to study abroad? We’re gonna miss you while you’re gone, but go for it. And if you want the man?” She cast a long gaze over to Daniel, who had moved on to serving coffees with a smile. “Shoot your shot before you lose your chance.”

Daisy wasn’t sure when Lance and Bobbi had become something more than customers, hell, when they’d become more than _regulars_ , but at this moment, she was glad for their meddling. “Thanks, guys,” she chuckled, waving off Fitz when he started waving at her frantically from behind the counter. “I think Fitz needs me to step in, but really.” She stood, holding their hopeful gazes. “This meant a lot.” 

Jemma wandered over some time after Daisy had disappeared back behind the counter, using the pretense of a refill and to-go bag to bring them into her plan. “Daisy and Daniel start late tomorrow, and I’m going to tip jar who should ask out who,” she informed them, and it was by sheer luck that all of them were able to avoid the spray of liquid from Lance’s mouth. “I take it you’re on board, then, Lance. I expect you and Bobbi will be in tomorrow to weigh in on the issue?” 

“You sure you should be doing that, Jemma?” Bobbi asked quietly, casting a dubious look at Daisy and Daniel, who were currently joking with each other at the counter. “She just said she wasn’t sure if he liked her or not, and he _was_ just talking to Peggy…” 

“Oh, his interest is purely academic,” Jemma said, waving an airy hand. “I just suggested her because I knew Daisy’d pick her as a choice for Daniel. Peggy’s practically engaged to her boyfriend Steve, and I’m pretty sure she mentioned him at _least_ fifteen times while they were conversing. Not that he was any better about mentioning Daisy, because _honestly._ ” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve never seen a man with his heart so on his sleeve.” 

Bobbi snorted. “Count us in, then.” 

* * *

Daisy should’ve known something was up the moment Jemma’d asked her to start late. For one, Jemma _never_ asked her to start late – if anything, she would’ve asked her to start _early._ Secondly, it hadn’t been _just_ Daisy Jemma’d asked to start early; she’d also asked Daniel to start at the same time. 

And while it meant that she’d managed to coerce Daniel into going to breakfast with her, it also meant that she had to stomach her hash browns and pancakes while Daniel practically waxed poetic about Peggy Carter. “Her research is just _fascinating,_ you know?” he asked, and she’d never seen his face more alive. “I mean, so much of history as we know it focuses on a western examination of global societies during World War II, there’s so many histories that we don’t know about.” 

“Sounds right up your alley.” 

“It totally is,” Daniel sounded like a girl who’d just been to her first Justin Bieber concert, he was speaking so quickly. “And so I said to her that I’d really love to work with her on a publication at some point, and so I might get to work with she and her boyfriend Steve sometime during the next semester, Steve’s _also_ specializing in World War II, but he’s working on the ideological tracking of it all, watching the rise and fall of ideas during the time that we might’ve missed…” 

“She sounds amazing, Dan, really, you should totally –“ Daisy’s self-pity party was cut off by the sudden process of all of Daniel’s previous words sinking into her brain. _Peggy’s boyfriend. Peggy had a boyfriend._

And Jemma’d _still_ let her hype Peggy up to Daniel. Daisy didn’t know whether to face palm in her humiliation or call Jemma up right then and there. How could she have done that? She _had_ to have known it wouldn’t go anywhere. 

Apparently, the answer was a simple choice in the form of two jars next to the cash register, and the horror sunk into both Daisy and Daniel at the same time as they walked into the coffee shop, all of its patrons going silent when they saw the two of them walk in. 

_Who should ask the other out?_ was printed in Jemma’s neat handwriting on their little whiteboard, _Daniel_ and _Daisy_ scribbled onto the chalkboard jars. For a minute, no one spoke. Finally: “What the _hell_?” 

Was this some kind of elaborate joke? What on _earth_ had possessed Jemma to put Daisy’s love life on blast, and especially to the customers? And to Daniel, most importantly? “Jemma, what the _hell_ did you do?” she hissed once she’d been able to get behind the counter and drag her friend to the back room. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Daniel doing the same to Fitz, only the Scot seemed to be remarkably clueless on the shenanigans that were going on right under his nose. “Why would you ask the _entirety_ of the Zephyr whether I should ask out Daniel?” 

“With all due respect, Daisy, it’s kind of obvious,” Jemma hummed. “Anyone could see from a mile away that you and Daniel had eyes for each other. You picking Peggy for him and still acting jealous over their camaraderie was the icing on the cake.” Had they really been that obvious? Had _she_ really been that obvious in her feelings?

...had _he_ really been that obvious without her noticing?

Daisy took several deep breaths, willing her brain to process the situation. At the end of the day, she was going to either have to ask Daniel out or he her. And when it came down to it, she would _much_ rather have control over the situation when it came to the (likely inevitable, damn Bobbi for planting seeds of hope into her subconsciousness) rejection. There was no taking back the tip jar challenge of the day – she was going to have to grin it and bear it until she could clock out and run home. 

If she was going to have to deal with this, she could at _least_ influence the outcome. “Jemma,” she said, pulling her wallet out and handing her friend a crisp five. “Can you, as our lovely assistant manager, grab five dollars in coins from the back room for me?” A hefty roll was soon pressed into her hand, and it was with purpose that Daisy strode back out, met Daniel’s eyes, cracked the roll open with one hand and shook it into her own jar. 

She’d deal with the concept that he knew she was attracted to him later. Right now, she had a tip jar war to win. 

* * *

It was easily the most profitable shift any of them had ever worked. 

By closing time, each of them had had to empty out the jar multiple times, their patrons making their voices well known in the form of tips. Daisy could’ve sworn she’d seen Bobbi and Lance swoop in several times just to add to the jar (their bickering on the way out was hard to miss), Mack carefully counting his change to add an equal amount to both jars, Deke simply dropping a handful of dollar coins into Daisy’s jar. (She snuck him a pastry at the end of the line.) 

_“Remember what it was like when we were young?” She smiled when she heard the voices of Phil and Melinda, her favorite regular couple. (Bobbi and Lance were great, don’t get her wrong, but there was something about the synchronicity of Phil and Melinda that left its mark on her.) If there was anyone she hoped to model a relationship after, it was most likely them – the couple that still found it in them to rag gently on each other, even fifteen years into their marriage._

_“Yeah,” Melinda’s voice was perfectly deadpan, and Daisy snorted over scooping ice into a coffee cup. “You were a pain in my ass.”_

_“You love me,” Phil countered amusedly. “Should we vote?”_

_“Mmm.” Even without looking, Daisy could see Melinda’s poker face in play. No emotion, no expression – Melinda probably cleaned house at every poker tournament she was at. “I think Daisy should,” she said finally, and the note of fondness in her tone warmed Daisy’s heart. “Daniel would take forever to do it.” A tinkle of coins in the jar, and she was popping up with two coffees in her hand._

_“Medium hot hazelnut swirl, regular, Melinda.” She slid the coffee cup to Melinda, who took it with a slight nod. “And a large iced mocha regular for you, Phil.” While her smile to them was normally genuine, today it was smitten, buoyed by their quiet confidence in her and her overall admiration for them. “Thanks for coming in and voting, guys.”_

_“Thank him and his caffeine addiction,” Melinda scoffed, though she was smiling as Phil was indeed sucking down his coffee with gusto. “This is the third time we’ve come in today.”_

“I don’t believe it,” Fitz groaned, and all of them turned to see two coin-counting jars on the back counter, both of them almost filled to the brim with coins. “They’re exactly the same!” 

“You’re _joking,_ ” Daisy said, her circuits beginning to short. After all the work she’d put into convince people to vote for her, after her multiple attempts to rig the jar – they had the _same amount_ ? Daniel _had_ to have been rigging the jar. He _had_ to have been. It was a blessing and a curse, in a way – because while it _did_ mean he wanted to ask her out, that he felt the same, but it also meant he was taking from her the chance to recover if she messed it up somehow. The power was in his hands, and she didn’t like it. “Maybe the coin jars messed up.” 

“Maybe you miscounted the jars,” Daniel suggested. 

“Or maybe you both rigged the jars so much that they turned out even, despite your attempts to win,” Jemma said evenly, raising an eyebrow when the both of them opened their mouths to protest. “Daniel, I saw you slip Fitz when you first got in, and Daisy, you handed me a five. And don’t think I didn’t see you emptying out your pockets and handing Bobbi and Lance money on your breaks, you two.” 

“Bu –” While Jemma had _technically_ been right, Daisy was still determined to fight for her victory tooth and nail. “He started it!” she said finally, pointing a dramatic finger at Daniel. It was childish, yes, but it was the best she could come up with on short notice. 

“Well, I’m finishing it.” All eyes were on Jemma as she picked a quarter out of her pocket, noise rippling among the regulars (really, it was just Lance and Deke gasping dramatically) when she dropped it into Daisy’s coin-counting jar. 

Maybe she _should_ have let Daniel win. Because now, the pressure on her to execute far outranked any pressure she was sure would’ve existed to say yes. She exhaled slowly, closing her eyes before opening them again to see Daniel’s face, smooth and nonjudgmental despite the stage fright jittering in her nerves. “So, um, I guess the cat’s out of the bag that I have a _little_ bit of a crush on you,” she began, and his answering chuckle was soothing, a reminder that they would be friends at the end of it all no matter what. “and I guess you could say that cat’s out of the bag that you have a little bit of a crush on me, yeah?” 

“It’s more than a little, but yeah,” he amended, and her cheeks pinked. Damn Daniel for inadvertently stealing the moment. “The crush is there.” 

“Glad we could confirm that,” she said awkwardly, and as soon as the words came out of her mouth, she winced. She’d never had this little game when asking anyone out. _Anyone._ “So I was thinking, there’s this mini golf place downtown that’s doing a soft opening. Weird ass holes, full bar…you know, social game night kind of shit.” She offered him a sheepish smile, hoping her blush hadn’t gotten any hotter. “I was thinking we could do Friday night? Or not, whatever’s good for you,” she backtracked almost immediately. “We can do whatever you want, I just really want to go on a date with you,” _Aaaaand_ she’d officially humiliated herself. God, she could never show her face in front of the regulars again. She normally wasn’t this weird when talking to Daniel _normally,_ what was wrong with her? 

But Daniel simply chuckled again, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Couldn’t imagine a better first date than whooping your ass at mini golf,” and _oh,_ was she going to blow his ass out of the water just for that comment, “I’ll pick you up at seven on Friday?” 

“It’s your ass I’m going to whoop, but I’ll see you there.” The dining room erupted into cheers, and, buoyed by the noise, Daisy crossed the counter and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek before groaning. “No, wait a minute...we open Friday morning, don’t we?” 

He grinned. “Then I guess I’ll just have to take you out for lunch after shift, too.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If there's something you want to see, I'm taking prompts from [this](https://justanalto.tumblr.com/post/622842304685834240/300-prompts) list!


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